


session 02: lay some sugar on me

by cruellae (tinkabelladk)



Series: 12 little sessions (with bonus track) [3]
Category: Cowboy Bebop (Anime)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:34:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22621102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinkabelladk/pseuds/cruellae
Summary: if a cat loved you, would you know?
Relationships: Jet Black/Faye Valentine, Spike Spiegel/Vicious
Series: 12 little sessions (with bonus track) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623682
Kudos: 15





	session 02: lay some sugar on me

**[Cinnamon Tree](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wltbm6Pe4BE) by Esperanza Spalding**

_ Cinnamon tree, graceful and free, _

_ We meet just once in a while but the spice in your smile is magic to me _

_ Cinnamon tree, wise and sturdy _

_ Your roots are firm in the ground to soak up what's around _

_ And make sweet seasoning, whoa _

“Ed wants some candy! Give Edward some candy!” 

Jet pokes his head out of the kitchen and walks down the hallway to see what the commotion is. Spike and Vicious are watching the little TV together—sitting with as much space as possible between them given the small size of the couch, but they aren’t trading blows so Jet will take what he can get. 

Spike has a brightly colored box of candy in his hands, which he is currently holding out of Edward’s reach. “Hell no,” he says. “These are mine.” 

Beneath the fall of silver hair, Jet thinks he catches the barest hint of a smile on Vicious’ face, and remembers seeing that box of candy at the bottom of one of the grocery bags Vicious brought in yesterday. 

Having Vicious on the ship is a little like hosting a ghost. He occasionally shows up for mealtimes, but usually skulks around after hours, raiding the fridge when everyone else has gone to bed. Sometimes Jet will catch sight of him perched somewhere with that bird he brought on board. Vicious talks more to it than anyone else on the crew.

The only thing that really makes his presence noticeable is how much Spike complains about it. But for all his grumbling, Spike still hasn’t said what exactly Vicious did to piss him off so much. So Jet shrugs it off, mostly because Vicious is very, very good at bringing in bounties, and also helps with the chores, unlike any of the Bebop’s other passengers. 

He hears the familiar theme music for Big Shot and joins them to watch, standing behind the couch. 

“But what kind of candy is it?” Edward asks. “Let Edward have a taste.” 

Moving with the kind of lightning speed Jet is just starting to get used to, Vicious plucks a bright green piece of the candy from between Spike’s fingers before Spike can pop it in his mouth. 

Jet has never seen someone get the drop on Spike before, and it’s a little funny to watch, but he forces himself to suppress his laugh, because Spike would probably never forgive him for it. 

“Here.” Vicious holds out the candy for Edward cautiously, like she’s some sort of wild beast. Which might not be far off the mark, because she lunges for it with a roar, snatching it out of his hand and dancing around happily before tossing it into her mouth. 

“Thank you, Mr. Crow,” she says, her mouth full of sugar and artificial flavoring. Jet sighs, thinking that processed crap can’t possibly be good for her. Or Spike. 

Spike is still staring at Vicious, his hand halfway to his mouth. It’s the kind of bullshit he usually pulls, so maybe it’s a good thing for him to have a taste of his own medicine. 

“Okay, that’s it,” he says, setting the box of candy on the table, and Jet has to lean in and put his metal hand on Spike’s shoulder, because he’s learned that his flesh arm isn’t strong enough to hold Spike back when Spike is trying to murder Vicious. 

“Hey now,” Jet says in his best “authority figure” voice, the one he used to use on criminals in the brig back in the ISSP. “Let’s watch Big Shot. We could use some income right about now.” 

“Whatever.” Spike sighs, leaning back onto the couch. And then he sits up, reaching for the box of candy, but it’s already in Edward’s grasp and she’s dancing down the hallway with it. 

“Hey Edward!” he calls, but it’s too late. And anyway, the show is starting. 

“The Spice Bandit, huh?” Jet studies the stats displayed on the screen. “Forty million woolongs. Might be worth our time.” 

“He smuggles spices?” Spike peers at the screen. “Are they really that valuable?” 

“I guess some are only grown on earth,” Jet says. “Hard to come by these days.” 

“Seems easy enough,” Vicious says, reaching for the katana he always keeps in arms reach. “Vraksa and I will handle it.” 

The bird caws at the sound of her name, swooping down from her perch to rest on Vicious’ shoulder. 

“Not if I handle it first,” Spike says, getting to his feet and grabbing the gun that he always keeps nearby. Jet wonders how the two of them don’t see the many obvious similarities. 

“You could work together,” Jet offers. 

They give him matching glances of utter contempt. 

“Oh, let them go have their pissing contest,” Faye says, walking down the stairs in her satin robe. “We can find something more fun to do.” She winks at Jet in a way that has him instantly hard. “I sent Edward and Ein out on an errand, so they won’t be back for a few hours.” 

“Right, then,” Jet says, glancing at Spike and Vicious. “You two have fun. Bring us back some woolongs.”

They barely look at him on their way out. Jet wonders if Julia, whoever she was, had to put up with this shit. Hell, maybe that's why she’s not in the picture anymore. 

_ — _

_ Please rub off on me / So I carry a little of your auburn hue, / For spice when days are dull and dreary _

_ — _

“Y’know, you’re not half bad at this,” Faye says. She’s straddling Jet’s lap on the Bebop’s yellow couch, her top undone. 

Jet lifts his head from her left breast to smirk at her. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

“Don’t get used to it,” she says, shoving him gently. “And I didn’t say stop.” 

In her short time on the Bebop, Jet has learned this: Faye Valentine is a force of nature. She won’t bend to anyone’s desires, or any social custom, or even any law she doesn’t think is worth her time. Jet likes that about her—her unwillingness to compromise. Sometimes he feels like he does nothing but compromise. The Black Dog of the ISSP—if only they knew the kinds of deals he had to make to get leads, catch crooks, and convince the law to prosecute them. 

Once he sinks his teeth into something, Jet never lets go. Faye, on the other hand, lets nothing tie her down. 

Jet is very aware this means there’s nothing really keeping her on the Bebop besides the promise of a hot meal whenever he can scrape one together and an old black dog in her bed. He’s made the Bebop into a house with an open door, but that means it’s as easy to leave as it is to enter.

“Jet. My tits are down here.” Faye smirks at him, and he realizes he’s been staring at her face, at her cold lovely eyes and the fall of her purple hair.

“Mmm,” he says, leaning back to take her in, in all her disheveled glory. “You’re beautiful, Faye.” 

She tenses in his arms, and he knows immediately that he’s made a mistake. That’s not how they speak to each other, with gentle reverence. She teases him and he laughs it off; he’s good-natured but not clingy. 

“Ugh,” she says. “I’ve heard that line a hundred times before.” 

Jet shrugs helplessly. “I guess lines don’t work on you. How about if I tell you that you’re hideous?” 

She laughs, leaning in to kiss him again, but there’s a new dissonance to it, like they’ve fallen out of the melody they were just starting to write. Jet can’t help but feel like she’s figured him out, like he’s just one more mark she’s read up and down. It’s an ugly feeling, but it doesn’t go away. 

_ — _

_ You bend your boughs towards me, / Times I'm weak and need someone to turn to / You share your flavor, ease my misery _

_ — _

“Tell me you at least got the bounty,” Jet says, sighing as Spike limps down the hallway and collapses onto the couch. 

“Blame Vicious,” Spike says. “He fucked it up.” 

“Not true.” Vicious is sitting on the stairs, his shoulders drawn up and hunched so he resembles that bird of his. He got back an hour ago and refused to talk, but did allow Jet to tend to his injuries. 

“Yeah, true,” Spike says, temper flaring. “He let the guy get away.”

“You were slow.” Vicious turns and casts a venomous glance at Spike. “Mao would be disappointed.” 

Spike leaps up off the couch, fists at the ready, stumbling when his weight lands on his left leg. “Don’t you fucking say his name. Don’t you fucking dare.” 

Jet reaches up and jerks Spike’s sleeve, dragging him back down. “Come on, you two. You’re going to have to learn to get along.”

Vicious gets up without a word, stalking into the hallway in the direction of the kitchen. 

Spike sighs, holding out his leg so Jet can examine his ankle. It’s sprained but fortunately not broken, so Jet goes into the kitchen for a bag of ice. When he gets there, Vicious already has one in hand. 

“How did you know…?” he asks. 

Vicious shrugs. “I know Spike.”

“Hey, what happened between you two anyway?” Jet asks, not really expecting an answer. But to his surprise, Vicious actually speaks. 

“There was a woman.”

“Julia, right? He’s said her name once or twice.” Jet knows he really shouldn’t be talking about Spike behind his back like this, but he’s so curious. “So you both loved her?” 

“Spike loved her.” Vicious hesitates. “Only her.” 

With that, Vicious hefts the bag of ice in his hand and walks out. Jet is still trying to puzzle it out when he hears Spike’s annoyed yelp and Vicious’ low gravelly tone, answering coldly. 

Their problems are actually kind of nice, because they distract from Jet’s own problems. Namely, the purple haired problem that flew her ship out of the Bebop this afternoon with no word about where she was going or if she planned to come back. 

_ — _

_ Aha, you give all that you are / And just keep on growing, your fragrance lives / In all who know you _

_ — _

“Edward has a message!” 

Jet sits straight up in bed, reaching for his gun before he realizes what’s happening. It’s just Edward, dancing around with her computer on her head, Ein hopping at her feet. 

“Jeez, Ed, it’s six a.m.,” Jet grumbles. “Can’t it wait?” 

“No,” Ed intones gravely. She presses a button and the screen lights up with an image of a short, stocky man with a thick black moustache and a bald, shiny dome of a head. 

“I am the Spice Bandit,” the man says, bowing dramatically. “At your service. Or rather, you will be at  _ my  _ service, when you see that I have kidnapped your friend!” 

The camera pans to show Faye slouched against a heavy looking antique sofa. She seems bored. One of her ankles is cuffed to the leg of the sofa, but otherwise she’s unrestrained.

“Don’t rescue me,” she says, lifting a cigarette to her lips. “It’s too dangerous. Just don’t come after me, okay?” 

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say,” the Spice Bandit squawks. “Damnit! Women are nothing but trouble.” 

Chuckling to himself, Jet has to silently agree. 

“I need a ship,” the Spice Bandit says, his eyebrows, which are as thick as two fuzzy caterpillars, drawing together in an attempt to be menacing. “Bring me your ship and I’ll let the girl go.” 

“Don’t bother with it,” Faye says with a melodramatic sigh. She flops down onto the couch so all Jet can see are her legs. “I know you’re busy. I’ll just stay here forever. He’ll probably make me into his sex slave or something. Oh, it’s a curse being so beautiful.” 

“Now, what are you talking about, woman?!” The bandit turns away from the comm to yell at her. “I don’t do that kind of thing. Be quiet already, would ya?”

“I can’t afford to buy a ship for you,” Jet says. “But I’ve got one to trade already. The Bebop don’t look like much but I promise you she’s got it where it counts.” 

“That’s a trade you’re going to regret,” Faye says. “You might think you know what you’re getting into, but you really don’t.” 

Jet probably should be a little more cautious. He doesn’t know what her angle is but she could be out of that incompetent bandit’s grasp in a matter of minutes if she wanted to. Still, they’re partners and maybe more, so he’ll go along with it in the way she clearly wants him to. 

_ — _

_ It still amazes me, / I just think of one stirring conversation / With you and my cup is filled with new infusions  _

_ — _

“Why do I have to come with you?” Spike whines, the warm Martian breeze ruffling his messy hair. 

“Because I might need backup,” Jet says. 

“Vicious got to stay on the ship.” 

Jet rolls his eyes. Spike sounds like a sulky teenager, and it would be hilarious if it weren’t so annoying. 

“Because Vicious has a job to do,” Jet says. “Now be quiet. Here he comes.” 

It’s the Spice Bandit in the flesh, his large belly jiggling as he hurries towards them. He’s wearing a turquoise shirt tucked into too-tight jeans. The buckle of his belt, shining silver in the light, is the size of a saucer and shaped like a lion’s head. 

“Is that my ship?” he asks, stepping forward. “Good, good. Thank you very much. Well, then.”

Before Jet and Spike can react, he lifts his hand, palm up, and blows a strange brown powder towards them. It smells like cinnamon and hope, and for a moment everything seems achingly, brilliantly beautiful, and Jet thinks of Faye just before he loses consciousness. 

_ — _

_ And like your honesty  _ /  _ In the midst of all the sweeten chatter / Your earthly taste adds a real perspective _

_ — _

“Hey, wake up!” Someone is shaking him, not gently. Jet blinks a few times, and the world comes into focus.

“Faye,” he murmurs, and for a moment he tastes cinnamon in the back of his throat. “You’re so beautiful. I think I could look at you forever.” 

He hears the smack of her hand on his cheek before he feels the pain of the impact. But he smiles, because if she was really angry she would have punched him hard enough to break a tooth. 

“What the hell is wrong with you? Smiling like an idiot.” She frowns, studying him, then brushes her finger against the corner of his mouth. The caress makes him feel warm all over. “Oh fuck. He dosed you with cinnamon sugar.” 

“Huh?” Jet blinks at her. 

“Cinnamon sugar. It’s a new drug he’s developing. I had to listen to him talk about it for hours.” She sighs. “It’s supposed to be like a huge dopamine and oxytocin hit, but targeted at certain parts of the brain. I don’t really understand it. He called it a love drug. But it knocks people out for the first half hour or so before it kicks in. He’s still trying to work that out.” 

“Love drug, huh?” Jet grins up at her, perfectly content to be stretched out on the hard ground as long as she’s leaning over him, purple hair falling in her face. “I do feel pretty warm and fuzzy inside. Especially because you’re with me.” 

“Ugh,” she says, pulling back. “Get up.” 

“Anything you want.” Jet gets to his feet, then puts one hand on her waist and draws her in for a kiss. He can feel the effects of the drug loosening his inhibitions but it’s not anything he couldn’t resist, if he really wanted to. It’s certainly not putting any feelings in his chest that weren’t already there. 

He’s just hamming it up because it gives him the opportunity to look at Faye as much as he wants and kiss her in a place where people might see them, for no reason at all. Later, he’ll just promise he was stoned out of his mind. 

“I thought you were being held hostage,” Spike says sleepily, and the two of them startle and step apart. “Oh, come on.” Spike waves his hand. “I already know you two are fucking; you’re not that sneaky.” 

“For your information, I was held hostage,” Faye says, hand on her hips, scowling at Spike as he gets to his feet. “But I finally managed to free myself.” 

“You mean you got tired of waiting for your rescue so you left,” Spike says, smirking. His gaze is as indifferent as ever as it rakes over the two of them. The drug doesn’t seem to have affected him at all. 

Then he looks past Jet and his eyes widen, his pupils dilating. Jet would be willing to bet anything he’s tasting cinnamon right now. Jet follows Spike’s gaze to the ramp leading into the Bebop, where Vicious is stepping into the bright golden sunlight. 

“Oh come on, Vicious,” Faye says, the force of her ire redirected. “You killed him, didn’t you?”

Jet can see why she would make that assumption, because although Vicious’ black clothes hide what is probably a lot of blood, it’s still a shocking, vibrant red where it stains his right hand and has spattered onto his cheek. 

“That bounty was alive only,” Jet says. “You knew that, didn’t you?”

Vicious says nothing. 

“All those woolongs, down the toilet,” Faye laments as she makes her way up the ramp into the ship, stomping in her white boots. “This is what I get for having such incompetent partners.” 

“You’ve got a little blood on your face,” Spike says. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off of Vicious. “You must have really done a number on the guy.” 

Vicious tenses as Spike approaches, which is only fair because Spike pretty much always keeps his distance except when he’s actively trying to kill his rival. 

“It’s okay,” Jet says, trying to keep the peace. “Everybody makes mistakes.” 

“Not Vicious.” Spike turns to Vicious, tilting his head. “What happened?”

Vicious glances up at the Bebop’s observation deck, which looks down over the little plateau where they’re standing. “I saw you go down,” he says. 

Spike laughs softly. “Just like old times, huh? I’m not so easy to kill, so just relax.” 

“I know.” The slightest hint of a smile beneath that messy gray hair. “I’ve tried.” 

“Okay, okay,” Jet says. “Let’s just get going.” He has a sinking feeling he’s going to be the one to clean up the corpse waiting on board. 

_ Cinnamon tree, graceful and free, _

_ We meet just once in a while but the spice in your smile is magic to me _

_ Cinnamon tree, wise and sturdy _

_ Your roots are firm in the ground to soak up what's around _

_ And make sweet seasoning, whoa  _

_ ………..SPICE UP YOUR LIFE _


End file.
